


It's Just Something That I Want to Do.

by MeganRachel09



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Attraction, Cooking, F/M, First Kiss, Friendship, Kissing, Marauders' Era, Muggle Life, Muggles, Rain, Surprise Kissing, Teasing, Wine, girl talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2018-11-17 04:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11268087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganRachel09/pseuds/MeganRachel09
Summary: Lily Evans has had what definitely qualifies as the worst day of her life when her fit new neighbour stops by to remind her that she has managed to leave her clothes hanging out on the line in the middle of a thunderstorm. But maybe with a bottle of wine and the help of a certain messy-haired young man, she can still manage to turn her day around.





	1. It's Just Something That I Want To Do.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: we’re neighbours/live in the same flat? and it’s raining and you’ve left your clothes out on the line and its CHUCKING it down.

“For fuck sake, not again!” Lily shouted and aimed a well-placed kick at her dryer, which decided to crap out for the fifth time _this month,_ and promptly collapsed to the ground clutching at her throbbing foot which was probably broken now. It would be just her luck and it would perfectly top off the _shittiest_ day imaginable.

It had even started off terribly, which most of her shitty days did not – usually it was the type of awful that crept up on you, the kind you didn’t see coming, that hid behind a normal, every day morning, and then hit you quite suddenly and left you reeling. That was what had happened the day her parents had announced their divorce when she was fifteen. It was even how she had felt when her sister had sent her that nasty text telling her that she was no longer welcome in her wedding party because she had _disagreed_ with Petunia’s fiancé. Fucking Brexiters.

No, today had started out terribly. Today, Lily had woken up late for work for the first time ever, had arrived over an hour late without even being able to stop for coffee on her way in, and had to listen to her god-awful _cow_ of an editor berate her for something which, admittedly, was actually her fault for once.

Usually, when Rita – _Ms. Skeeter_ – went off on Lily, it was for something ridiculous and unavoidable like when the Prime Minister had refused to give a quote to the Daily Prophet during yet another disastrous press conference and Rita had decided it was Lily’s fault even though Lily hadn’t even been at the press conference.

To make matters worse, she had agreed to meet up with an old friend for lunch, apparently having forgotten that she had cut ties with Severus Snape three years ago for a reason. She had sat through forty-five minutes of him making thinly veiled racist remarks whilst brazenly praising Tom Riddle, a divisive politician about whom Lily had written numerous scathing articles in the past three months alone before she had made her excuses to leave.

She’d had a few minutes to spare before she had to be back at work since she had ditched Severus at the restaurant early and so had decided to stop for coffee. She had thought it would be a good pick-me-up, that it would turn her day around. It hadn’t. The barista, a first year uni student by the looks of her, had made her order wrong _twice_ before finally getting it right and once she finally had her cinnamon latte in hand, an impatient man crossing the road next to her had jostled her arm and made her spill her drink all down the front of her white dress.

It was at that point that Lily had pulled her cell phone out of her purse and sent a text to her editor telling her that she would be finishing her work from home for the day. It wasn’t worth risking a phone call and having to listen to Rita say something that rubbed her the wrong way. Not today, when God only knew how much more Lily could take before reaching her breaking point.

So Lily had stopped at the shop on her way home, figuring that if a coffee hadn’t improved her day, a glass of wine was her next best option. And if that didn’t do the trick, then the whole bottle would have to do.

It was only one o’clock when she had gotten home, so she had decided to at least pretend to be a responsible adult and fold her laundry before getting drunk off wine in the middle of the day.  
Now here she was, collapsed on the floor with a _definitely broken foot_ in front of her broken dryer full of wet clothing, which was going to mildew if she didn’t take care of it right away. Sighing, she heaved herself to standing, tested her weight on her injured foot and decided that, okay, it probably wasn’t actually broken, and gathered the wet clothing from her useless dryer.

At least she still had the clothesline strung across her back garden, she thought as she limped out the back door. It didn’t take her long to hang her laundry – it was a rather small load and her wardrobe mostly consisted of no-iron dresses. It was quiet work; her fit neighbour’s equally fit friend wasn’t staying with him this week – not that she paid either of them any attention, honestly – so she didn’t have to listen to the friend calling her _Red_ and telling her neighbour she was fit and he should make a move already. Even better, her clothes wouldn’t reek of cigarette smoke after a few hours.

Honestly, how he put up with his friend – she had yet to learn either of their names yet as he had only moved in a couple months ago – was beyond her. The one who actually lived there didn’t seem particularly happy with his friend whenever he made those comments that were clearly meant to be overheard, and she had never seen him smoking either. She had wondered at first if it was a friendship of convenience, if they had known each other for so long that not being friends was too frightening and foreign a concept for them to entertain. She had been there, once, after all, so she thought she could understand if that was the case. Then, one day, the friend had showed up in a bad way, bloody and bruised and clearly badly injured, and Lily had noticed _but definitely not watched_ her neighbour practically nurse him back to health over the course of a couple of weeks. Clearly there was more there than convenience.

She pondered this as she poured herself a glass of wine. She had friends – there was Marlene, who she had drinks with every Saturday night, and Benjy from work, and Emmeline, with whom she had lunch every other Wednesday, and Dorcas, who had moved to America after uni and skyped in with her and Marlene and sometimes Emmeline once a month – but Lily didn’t think there was anyone she was close enough with to have them move into her house for a few weeks, anyone she would be willing to nurse back to health after an accident. All of her friends had families, after all, who they would turn to first.

The worse realization was that she had no one who would willingly do for her what her neighbour had done for his friend. Obviously, her family and her friends wouldn’t let her die if anything happened to her. They would certainly check in with her, make sure she was coping well, but she doubted they would so selflessly and willingly allow her to take up residence in their home.

She frowned as she nursed her wine and began to drift off there on her couch, thinking about her friends, whom she loved, truly, but also about her neighbour, whom she didn’t actually know but now, half a bottle of wine in and unconsciousness overtaking her, could admit she wanted to.

Several hours later, she woke to the sound of rain pouring down outside. It was dark now, not because it was late – it was only about four o’clock, according to her iPhone – but because of the thunderstorm. She stretched, arms above her head, feet reaching towards the arm of the couch, and then rolled to her feet. Pulling the blanket off the back of the couch as she made her way towards the window overlooking her front garden, she wrapped herself up nice and cozy and smiled for the first time that day.

She loved the rain, always had. She loved how everything slowed down, all but stopped, outside when she sky opened up. She had always been fond of curling up in a window with a blanket, a book, and a steaming mug of tea and losing herself in a different sort of world. After the day she had endured, that seemed like the only fitting way to spend the afternoon now.  
A dark figure caught her attention before she could turn away to fetch her kettle and she realized with a skittering heart that none other than her mysterious, fit neighbour was sprinting through her garden. She watched, stunned, as he leapt up onto her porch and stood there for a moment, arm outstretched, fist frozen above her door. She waited, hidden behind the blinds, as he fought some kind of internalized battle and finally rapped his knuckles against the door, a quick, firm, loud, _confident_ sound. After a brief pause – she didn’t want to betray the fact that she had watched him the entire time – she opened the door to peer up at him.

He wasn’t wearing his glasses. That was the first thought that crossed her mind. They kept a fairly similar schedule, leaving for work around the same time every day, and he usually returned home about a half hour after her. On her days off, she usually still woke up early out of habit and took her coffee out on her front porch just in time to watch him leave his house for a run. She saw him every day, at least once a day and although they had never spoken, she had still noticed that he never left the house without his glasses on. Glasses were probably pretty useless in the rain, though, she rationalized.

“Hello?” she said softly when he merely looked at her. She ran her fingers through her hair, wondering why he looked almost dazed at the sight of her. She hadn’t looked in the mirror before she had opened the door, but she probably should have; it wasn’t as if she had a tendency to wake up looking flawless.

“Er – hi. Sorry,” he shook himself off and Lily couldn’t decide if he was shaking off the rain or the daze. Either way, it was a dizzying mixture of adorable and incredibly sexy. His normally messy hair was plastered to his head even though he could only have been in the rain for all of ten seconds. He suddenly thrust his hand towards her and Lily shook it with a bemused smile. “I’m your neighbour. James. Sorry, I’m wet.”

“It’s okay,” Lily smiled when he pulled his hand back on an embarrassed smile. “I’m Lily. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too. Did you realize it was raining?” When she raised her eyebrows because _obviously_ , he dragged his hand through his dripping hair and shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed. “What I mean is, your clothes are still on the line and I don’t think it’s proper drying weather at the moment.”

It took a moment for her to understand what he was saying. When she remembered her broken dryer and the clothesline out back, she swore heartily and turned to rush out the back door. It was rude, probably, leaving him standing there at the front door without saying a word, but she needed to save her clothes. There may not have been many clothes hanging, but she had definitely thrown her favorite bra and knickers in the wash last night before bed and she didn’t fancy the idea of leaving them out in the rain for God knows how long.

She rushed out the back door and started ripping clothes from the line, not realizing that he had followed her until he already had half of the load in his arms and was ushering her back inside.

“Thanks. You didn’t have to…” she trailed off, mortified, when she realized that at the very top of the pile of clothes in his arms sat her overpriced, but very beautiful and favored black-and-cream lacy bra and knickers.

He seemed to realize a moment later what had caught her attention. His eyes went wide and he thrust his arms forward, offering for her to take her unmentionables back. She hesitated, arms already full, and nowhere to put her sopping clothes, before gesturing for him to just drop the clothes on the kitchen table. He did, and she quickly dropped her half of the load on top hoping that the saying _out of sight, out of mind_ might apply here. Judging by the redness creeping up his neck, though, that wasn’t going to be the case.

“Why do you dry your clothes on the line?” he blurted out and it was so obviously word vomit that she wondered if the question had been niggling at the back of his mind since she had strung up the line or if he had simply said the first thing he had thought of in an attempt to clear the awkwardness.

“My dryer is a traitorous piece of shit,” she told him. “Not only does it occasionally refuse to dry my clothing, it also attempted to break my foot today. When I kicked it, that is.”

He laughed at that, rubbing the back of his neck as he studied her. “Well, you seem to be doing okay.”

“Yeah, I’m a right trooper,” she said.

They were quiet for a moment, only the sound of the rain outside filling the silence. This wasn’t exactly how she had imagined their first meeting going. Not that she had fantasized about meeting him or snogging him or sleeping with him or anything. She definitely hadn’t dreamt about it and woken up in the middle of the night panting and frustrated and wanting nothing more than his head between her thighs, his hips cradled between hers and having to make do with only her hand. Except that she definitely, absolutely, embarrassingly had. Just last night, in fact, which, in hindsight, may have had something to do with why she had overslept this morning.

“Did you want a cup of tea?” she offered, voice unusually high-pitched.

“Oh, actually, I can’t right now. I’m sorry,” he said, and he did actually sound regretful. “I’ve got to get home.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine. Of course you do!” she exclaimed, and led him back to the front door. “Thanks so much for reminding me about my laundry. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Of course. It’s not a problem.” He opened the door for himself and started to walk outside. He paused on the threshold, his hand still on the doorknob, and turned to look at her, the rain pouring down behind him and spoke in huge rush, as if he was afraid of missing his one shot at… _something._ It was charming, in a nervous, boyish sort of way.

“Did you maybe want to use mine? My dryer, I mean. It’s not a traitor, in fact it’s been quite loyal to me so far. Always gets the clothes dry, if not a bit wrinkled, but I think that might be my fault – I’m shit at folding.” He stopped himself, took a deep breath, and ruffled his damp hair. “I have food, too, if you were hungry.”

“What kind of food?” She asked, a smile playing on her lips.

“Beg pardon?” He was staring at her lips. She thought he realized it at the same time she did because he cleared his throat and immediately refocused his attention on her eyes.

“I mean, are you cooking food or do you have take away or is it frozen dinners or…?” She was only giving him a bit of a hard time. It wasn’t like she had particularly high standards – she survived on a diet of frozen dinners and take away for the most part herself, and had already decided to go over to his house anyway for the use of the dryer, and the promise of dinner and maybe, if they were both lucky, something more.

“I’m cooking.” When her eyebrows shot up, he grinned. It transformed him from awkward, uncertain, and adorable to full-blown sexgod. “I cook. Tonight I’m making Eggplant _Parmigiana_. That’s actually why I have to get home. I’ve left the oven on.”

“Oh my God, you’re serious. You actually cook. Like Italian food.” Not only was he fit and kind and caring and adorably awkward and sexy, he could cook. She almost asked him to marry her right then and there.

“Yeah.” He nodded, that sexy, cocksure grin still playing at his lips. “It’s actually ready to go in the oven already. I just need to cook the pasta and then…”

He trailed off when she turned away from him, marched over to the kitchen table, and scooped up her dripping clothes. The table was wooden, and it was soaked, and she should definitely be a responsible adult and dry it before it, too, was ruined, but she didn’t. She turned and met him at the door, reveling in the way his expression changed from bewildered to elated when he realized that she was taking him up on his offer.

“Oh, wait.” She hesitated, eyeing her keys on the table next to the door, and he took her laundry from her without being asked so she could lock the door and follow him next door.

His house was warm and brightly lit and surprisingly tidy when she walked in. She followed him through the foyer, past the living room and the dining room, through the kitchen, and into the laundry room, which was easily the messiest room she had seen so far. There were clothes piled on top of the washer and the dryer and at least three pairs of running shoes scattered around the floor. At least everything seemed to be clean judging by the fresh scent of the room.

“When you said you’re shit at folding…?” She trailed off when he straightened up from loading her clothes into the dryer.  
He looked around and cracked a shameless smile. “I guess I meant I just really don’t do it often.”

“It is the worst part of doing laundry,” she said.

“Yeah, it is.” He turned away from her for a moment to start the dryer and rummage through the piles on top of the appliances. When he turned back to her, he handed her a jumper and a pair of sweatpants. “Here. You might want to change into dry clothes. I promise they’re clean.”

She hesitated for a moment before she took the clothes – she would look ridiculous seeing as he was easily a foot taller than her, but she also really didn’t want to sit through dinner in a wet dress.

“Thank you,” she said softly when he led her to the guest bathroom so that she could change. She watched him disappear from view, heard the stairs creaking as he ran up them, and assumed he was going to change into something dry as well.

She leaned against the door for a moment after she closed it, taking several deep breaths before looking in the mirror and _oh God_ , she was still wearing her coffee-stained white dress. For a moment, she could do nothing but stare in horror at her reflection. Then, she started laughing, deciding that other than crying it was the only acceptable option. After several seconds of self-deprecating laughter, she stripped out of her wet clothes and pulled on James’s clothes. A glance in the mirror assured her that, no, she did not look any less ridiculous than before. She took a deep breath, rolled her eyes at her reflection, and turned to leave the room.

When she walked out of the bathroom swimming in his jumper and sweats, her sopping hair piled up on top of her head, he had already changed his clothes, started boiling water for the pasta, and was pouring two glasses of wine. He looked up when she walked into the kitchen, and froze, staring at her. She wasn’t a naïve schoolgirl; she knew she was attractive and she knew what it meant when a man froze up like that at the sight of a woman in his clothes.

She watched as he carefully thought through his next move – they were both aware at this point that this night could very well set the tone for all of their future interactions. He finished pouring the wine and then walked over to her, handing her a glass. When she raised a questioning brow, he shrugged. “I saw the bottle in your living room. Figured you wouldn’t mind another glass.”

He smiled when she clinked her glass against his and took a sip. She smiled when she realized they apparently had the same taste in wine. “I love a good Chardonnay.”

With one finger, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, drawing to her attention the fact that he had put them on while she was getting changed.

“Me too. Technically, it’s not the best wine to pair with a red sauce, but it’s my favorite and I knew you liked it, so I…” he trailed off when she stepped closer, set her wine down on the counter next to him and then surged up on the tips of her toes to press her lips to his ever-so-briefly.

“Sorry,” she said, blushing when he only stared at her. She backed away quickly, shaking her head with the sudden realization that that may have been wildly inappropriate. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I just… I’ve wondered what it would be like, and… shit, I’m sorry. Do you have a girlfriend? Oh, God. I’ve just realized I don’t know anything about you.”

“No, no, no.” He rushed toward her, his hands closing over her clasped hands. “I just didn’t expect… You’re beautiful and… Fuck it.”

He leaned down towards her and kissed her, his lips lingering far longer than she had. When he pulled back, his glasses were slightly askew, but he didn’t seem to care, choosing to cup her face in his hands instead of fix them. “I don’t have a girlfriend, and I have been wondering what it would be like to kiss you as well, ever since I first saw you. You’re just very attractive and I’m incredibly shit with women.”

She smiled up at him, resting her hands on his hips. “Well, you seem to be doing okay.”

In answer, he kissed her again, more enthusiastically this time, pushing her up against the counter. She wanted him to lift her up, set her on top of the counter, press himself against her. When he didn’t lift her up, she pulled back, boosted herself up to sit on the counter, and drew him in between her legs. He groaned deeply and slipped both of his hands under the jumper he had given her.

When he cupped her breasts, her head fell back. There was a sudden violent hissing-popping noise that was definitely not coming from either of them.  
He pulled away from her quickly, grabbed the pot of water on the stove, and moved it to a different burner. His chest was heaving and he was looking back and forth from her to the water with comically wide eyes.

She laughed and shook her head. “Let’s put this on pause, yeah?”

When he looked like he wanted to protest, she jumped down from the counter and lifted her glass of wine. “I want to watch a man cook. It’ll be like foreplay.”

“It’s pasta,” he said, his voice much gruffer than before. “Not much cooking there.”

“Hey, I am one of those people who can burn pasta,” she told him, figuring it wouldn’t really matter to him that she couldn’t cook – a man who cooked when he didn’t know he had anyone to impress was a man who enjoyed cooking and therefore did not need a woman who could cook. When he grinned at her, she knew she was right. “Give me this.”

He studied her for a moment and then shrugged. “I am hungry.”

Grinning, she watched over the rim of her glass as he moved purposefully through the kitchen. When he caught her gaze over his shoulder, she bit her lip. This could be the start of something really, _really_ good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually a prompt on tumblr from prongsno - I asked for prompts and I actually got them. That doesn't normally happen to me, so today has been good lol.  
> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!  
> Oh, if you want to follow me on tumblr and talk to me or anything, I'm jilyyall over there :)


	2. As Much As I Want You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been nearly a week since Lily and James had dinner _and more_ , but Lily hasn’t seen or heard from her insanely fit neighbour and it’s beginning to really bother her.

“Oh my God, ladies. Our little Lily is growing up. Had her first one-night stand and everything,” Dorcas’s voice was distant, a bit tinny, and came from Lily’s desktop computer, which she usually reserved for work except when Marlene and Emmeline came over to Skype Dorcas on the last Thursday evening of every month. “What a woman.”

“I’m just glad she’s finally getting some action,” Emmeline said and took a sizeable gulp of her whisky on the rocks because _I don’t drink wine or that headache-inducing sugary shit you bitches love_. “Honestly. I was starting to worry you would dry up forever like an old, forgotten prune.”

“That.” Lily paused, searched for something that wasn’t glass, found only an old _lightly used_ napkin from their takeaway earlier, and threw it at her. It hit Emmeline in the head and bounced off her silky blond bob to land on the floor next to her. “Was uncalled-for.”

“Bitch,” Emmeline laughed, picking up the napkin and throwing it in the bin by the door.

“Hey, let’s get back to the topic at hand, which is that Lily is officially starting to slut it up with the rest of us,” Marlene said, taking a prim sip of wine and smirking at Lily over the edge of her glass. “We should all go out and pull this weekend. Oh, sorry, Dorky.”

“Ugh, I can still pull here in America, you tit.” Dorcas rolled her eyes and lifted a cup that she claimed was full of alcohol, but Lily strongly suspected was just water, given the fact that it was just past noon in Los Angeles. “In fact, I can probably pull easier here given my _fucking sexy_ accent.”

“We all have the same accent, you loser,” Emmeline said, searching through their discarded takeaway containers for another egg roll.

“Everyone there has the same accent, Mellie,” Dorcas reminded her. “Mine stands out here, though.”

“Do the blokes really love it that much?” Marlene asked, leaning forward in her seat.

“I dunno about the blokes, but the birds sure do,” Dorcas said.

“Shit, I forgot. Sorry.” Marlene’s eyes went slightly wide, the corners of her mouth downturned in the expression she always wore when she was sincerely apologetic.

“Oh, it’s still new to me, too. Don’t worry,” Dorcas assured her.

Dorcas, who came from a very religious family, had lived her entire life in denial and had only admitted to herself that she liked girls on her twenty-first birthday. She hadn’t told anyone, even her three best friends, that she was a lesbian until she was already well and settled into her new life in America nearly four years later. Her parents didn’t talk to her anymore and, as such, Lily pretended not to know them on the rare occasion that she ran into them these days.

“I think I could pull a woman,” Emmeline said mildly.

“Okay…” Marlene drawled. “But would you let a woman pull you, is the real question.”

“Yeah, probably,” Emmeline answered, reaching for her drink again. “Who knows how to please a woman better than another woman?”

“I dunno, why don’t we ask Lily?” Dorcas suggested with a laugh. “Does your very fit neighbour know how to please a woman?”

Lily rolled her eyes, distinctly aware of the colour rising in her cheeks. She lifted a shoulder in an attempt at careless indifference. “He did all right.”

“Yeah, sex is almost always all right, but did you have an orgasm?” Emmeline demanded.

Did she ever. She was getting hot all over just thinking about it.

“Oh, my God, she definitely did,” Marlene announced with a delighted laugh. “Look at that fierce flush.”

“You’re the worst,” Lily groaned, throwing her head back dramatically, narrowly missing hitting the wall.

“At least your fit neighbour isn’t _the worst_ in bed,” Emmeline cackled. 

“What position did you do?” Dorcas asked.

“Yeah, was it something crazy for your first one-night stand?” Emmeline prompted. “Or was it more tame? Missionary? Doggy style?”

“Er – I dunno. He was standing and I was sitting on the kitchen counter,” Lily said truthfully.

“Oh, my God, you slag!” Dorcas teased.

“Hey, that’s not a bad one,” Marlene said. “Just kinky enough to be a little bit wild and tame enough not to scare you out of the real kinky shit.”

Lily realized at that moment that she didn’t tell her friends enough about her sex life. Sure, she hadn’t had sex in a while, which, in hindsight, was probably why she had been so desperate for James to get his hands on her. She was not, however, some blushing, all but virginal schoolgirl who didn’t know that sex was supposed to be fun and free and feel good.

She liked sex, loved it, even, if the bloke knew what he was doing. She had, in the past, spoken openly and comfortably about her sex life, her wants and needs, her likes and dislikes, with her partners. Apparently, though, she had never shared the same amount of information with her friends.

She loved the girls, truly, but she didn’t trust them not to share wildly inappropriate details about her sex life with people who had no right to know them. They had, after all, told her things their coworkers had shared with them and more than likely didn’t want some random stranger knowing about them.

Listening to the girls talk about their favorite sex positions, Lily felt a bit out of place. They all had had so many sexual partners, so many casual flings, and Lily had had none. She’d had a fair few relationships, all of which had been mostly sexual in nature, but not at all casual. It struck her that she didn’t want to have casual sex. At least, not at this point in her life. Not with James.

She was overcome suddenly by an awful sensation that felt a bit like regret and a lot like loneliness. She stood quietly from her chair, gathered up the empty food containers, left Emmeline and Marlene to cackle with Dorcas’s image on the computer, and made her way down the stairs to the kitchen for another glass of wine.

Trash in the bin and glass blissfully full again, she glanced out the window on the side of her house that faced his house. The lights were off, as they had been every time she had spared him a thought and a glance the past few days. Admittedly, that had happened embarrassingly often since they had slept together.

Lily frowned and sighed. She had a good life. She had a reliable job that brought in a decent amount of money – enough for her to afford a house on her own – even if her boss was a bit shit and brought her right to the edge of murderous rage at least twice a week.

She had a fair few friends who she saw regularly, and parents she spoke to on the phone every other day and had dinner with her mother every Tuesday night and with her father every Wednesday night without fail. Her sister was awful and spiteful and mean and Lily hadn’t heard from her since she had received the Christmas card Petunia had almost certainly sent her more for their mother’s benefit than for Lily’s, but Lily loved her and she would venture to say that Petunia likely loved Lily right back.

She had a car and a roof over her head and a lovely wardrobe full of beautiful, professional dresses and slacks and nice blouses and also quite a few dingy, old, beloved jumpers and sweats. She had more shoes than one person really had a right to own. She had hot water and enjoyed a leisurely soak in a bubble bath with a book and a lit candle and a full glass of red wine every Friday night.

She had wine. Lots of wine.

Her life was good, but she would be lying if she said that lately she hadn’t been feeling like something was missing.

A husband, her mother would say if Lily brought it up during dinner on Tuesday night, which she _absolutely would not do_.

A cat, her father would insist, clinging as desperately as ever to the idea that his younger daughter would not rush to marry the first man who offered, awful as he might be, the way his older daughter had.

A few good orgasms a week, her friends would undoubtedly suggest.

Lily had never been one to cling to a man. Even when she was a schoolgirl and had gotten her first boyfriend, she hadn’t clung to him. They went on dates on the weekends, occasionally stopped for a hug and a chat in the hallways at school, but for the most part lived separate lives. He would spend his days at school with his friends, and she with hers; they didn’t even eat lunch together. She had introduced him to her parents after a month not because she wanted him to have a greater role in her life, but because her mother and father had insisted on meeting him. Her relationships in uni had been much the same, only instead of an occasional hug and a chat in the hallways, there had been the occasional spontaneous shag in an empty, unlocked classroom. As a young professional, she didn’t have much time for relationships and while she certainly wasn’t against the idea of a one-night stand she had never felt desperate enough to actually give in and go that route.

She wouldn’t say that she felt clingy now, but this was different. She had never met a bloke and felt drawn to him the way she did with James. She hadn’t gone into his house thinking _this is going to be a one-night stand_ , but she also hadn’t gone expecting to walk out in a relationship. She had just accepted an offer of dinner from the fit bloke she had been eyeing ever since he had moved in next door and then, as soon as she had set foot in his house, something had come over her. There was a pull there, between them. It was electric; it was magnetic. It was almost like… fate.

And that was an embarrassing and ridiculous thought because Lily was a firm believer –and had been all her life – that there was no such thing as fate, that it was your choices and your actions that shaped your future and that the course of your life was not predetermined by some unknown, unseen, undeterminable entity. And yet, she couldn’t shake the thought that fate had seen him buy the house right next to her and had her dryer break down and make her hang her clothes out on the line on a sunny day that turned into a rainy evening that led her to his house, his kitchen counter, his couch, his bed, his shower the next morning.

She hadn’t mentioned that to her friends – and likely she wouldn’t – but they had had sex several times. They had started in the kitchen, finally giving in to the irresistible, unshakeable desire after they had eaten dinner and drunk the whole bottle of wine, then James had carried her to the couch when he decided he wanted to lay her down, had finished there, the first time. After that, they had gone to bed, presumably to go to sleep for the night, but Lily had woken after a few hours, desire burning almost painfully within her, and she had kissed him awake – had wanted to stroke him awake, but hadn’t been certain how he would react since they had only just met a few hours before – and then had ridden him with a desperate abandon she had never felt before.

They had both woken ridiculously early – well before five in the morning – to a hard, heavy, thunderous rainfall and he had eventually rolled over on top of her for slow, sleepy, wonderful, half-awake morning sex before they managed to fall back asleep. It was Saturday morning and it was storming out, so he couldn’t go for his usual morning run and didn’t have plans until noon, so they had taken their time waking up for the day, had decided to shower together and gotten carried away again. He’d held her up against the wall and fucked her there in the shower until his feet had started to slip and they had laughed and moved to the spacious marble counter next to his sink to finish.

He’d made eggs for her – poached, not scrambled and dry and almost burnt like she always made them when she bothered to cook for herself – and a coffee and they had talked about normal, everyday things. It hadn’t been awkward or strained, like they were complete strangers who had just spent the past twelve hours either sleeping or fucking; it was comfortable, like they were just lovers having breakfast together after a wonderful night and chatting about their plans for the day.

He’d gotten her clothes from his dryer and carried them next door for her. They’d kissed, long and slow, on her front porch, and then he’d gone home to get ready for his day. She hadn’t seen him since.

They’d made no promises of _more_ , hadn’t made plans for a date or exchanged phone numbers, but they lived next door to each other and it seemed a small thing to have each other’s numbers, really, when they could just walk outside their doors when they wanted a chat. Only, she hadn’t even seen his car in the drive since Sunday morning when she’d left to have brunch with Benjy. And it was Thursday night.

She’d been bothered by his sudden and unexpected disappearance all week long; she wasn’t too proud to admit that, at least to herself. But she hadn’t let herself dwell on it as much as she was tonight. It was probably because, even when he hadn’t been home Sunday night, or by the time he usually would have been home Monday afternoon, she hadn’t allowed herself to consider the possibility that this could have been a one-night stand until her friends had determined that it was.

He’d been great in bed, that was an indisputable fact, but he’d been just awkward enough during their conversation before they’d had sex, just nervous enough, that she had assumed that he didn’t pick up on women much. Men could get _really_ good at sex by having a lot of sex with just a couple of partners just as easily as –easier than, even– having a lot of one-night stands.  He seemed like the type of guy who had had a few serious partners in his day, the relationship type. But now, Lily had to admit that she didn’t really know anything about him. For all she knew, he had never been in a relationship and was strictly a one-night stand bloke. But who in their right mind chose to have an undisclosed one-night stand with their neighbour, knowing they would see each other every day?

Except, she remembered, she hadn’t seen him since.

It was unlikely that he had moved, she reasoned. He had only bought the place a few months ago and he had already completely settled in, judging by the comfortable way he had decorated. He could have been avoiding her, but if that were the case, he was going to an awful lot of trouble to do so, completely changing around a schedule he had never even once deviated from before they had spent the night together. Besides, he had definitely had as good a time as she had, had initiated things two out of the four times they had had sex, had cooked for her and kissed her and had laughed and seemed to genuinely enjoy the conversations they’d shared afterwards as much as she had.

It wasn’t that she wanted to spend every free moment that she had with him. It was just that she didn’t _not_ want to spend all of her free time with him. She didn’t want for their night together to be just that: their one and only night together. The sex was good – great, actually, easily the best she’d ever had – and the food was delectable. But there was more to it than that. She liked talking to him, liked watching him work, had taken great pleasure in watching his hands as he had chopped vegetables for a salad. She liked his eyes and how expressive his face was – it had seemed to her that he hid nothing – and his stubble in the morning. She couldn’t get enough of his hair, smooth and soft in her hands, messier when he woke than she had ever seen it, either from her constant tugging at it when he was inside her or from sleep. She liked his mouth, the way it moved over words and laughs and smiles, and over her body.

She couldn’t think of a single thing she didn’t like about him. She desperately wanted to find something, to see if she would still think he was wonderful and feel this pull towards him even when she found the something that annoyed her, made her want to roll her eyes or pick a fight with him. It had been her experience in the past that she didn’t have much patience for a bloke once she found that something. Lily wanted more than anything to find out if James could be the bloke that held her attention, left her wanting him even when she was annoyed with him.

If she ever saw him again.

God, she wanted to see him again.

“Lily?”

She found herself still staring out the window at his house, turned quickly, nearly sloshed wine right out of her glass and onto her beige top. Marlene was standing on the bottom step, watching her. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” Marlene stepped down onto the landing and made her way, almost gliding across the room, over to Lily.

“Yeah.” Lily smiled and took a large sip of wine. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Marlene pulled a face that would have looked ridiculous on Lily: eyes rolling, one eyebrow quirking up towards her hairline, the other curling low as she half-squinted one eye at her, her mouth quirked up in a slanted smirk as she scoffed and shook her head and managed to look beautiful doing it.

“You disappeared without saying anything about five minutes ago and I found you staring out at your neighbour’s house and I can only assume he’s the one you slept with,” Marlene said, looking curiously out the window over Lily’s shoulder.

“You know what they say about assumptions,” Lily said.

“Yeah, but mine are usually right.” Marlene smirked at her. Lily tried to smile back, tried to hide how forced it felt by taking a sip of wine. Marlene, observant as she was, frowned. “What’s wrong, love?”

Lily sighed, downed the rest of her wine far too quickly, and moved around Marlene to pour another glass. When she turned to face Marlene again, she was watching Lily closely, not even bothering to hide her concern. Lily didn’t blame her; she didn’t usually act like this. Usually, Lily was calm, cool, and collected, and just as bubbly and talkative as the rest of the girls when they got together.

“One of those nights, is it?” Marlene said after a moment of silence. She sighed and drank the last of her wine, followed Lily to refill her glass as well. “Okay, I’m ready,” she said once her glass was full.

Lily rolled her eyes, but allowed Marlene to pull her over to the sturdy wood kitchen table, sat down across from her when Marlene released her.

“Talk,” Marlene commanded.

“It’s stupid,” Lily warned her. “You’ll laugh.”

“I would _never_ laugh at something that upset you,” Marlene vowed and Lily knew that she was right. None of her friends would laugh at her for her concerns, or for wanting to see James again, and regularly.

“I didn’t think it was a one-night stand when I told you about James,” Lily admitted.

“James would be fit neighbour, I’m guessing. Well, that’s no big deal.” Marlene waved a hand as if to dismiss the problem. “We’ll just tell the girls that you’re planning to see him again, they’ll tease you that the sex was too good, and that will be that.”

“That’s the thing, though. We didn’t make plans to see each other again,” Lily said. “I just assumed since we’re neighbours that we didn’t have to make plans immediately because we would just see each other pretty much every day.”

“But… you haven’t?” Marlene guessed.

“Not since he walked me home Saturday morning!” Lily complained.

“Wait, you spent the night with him?” Marlene asked. “You made it sound like you’d just gone over there to dry your clothes, had dinner, had a bit of him, and then come home.”

“I had more than a bit of him,” Lily mumbled.

Marlene said nothing, but raised an eyebrow at her. And Lily cracked. She told her just about everything: the incredible sex, the various positions and numerous orgasms, the easy conversation, the warm, fantastic snogging, and his mysterious disappearance afterwards. By the time Lily was finished her story, she and Marlene had both finished their glasses of wine and Marlene had gotten a fresh bottle from the refrigerator and refilled both of their glasses.

“Wow,” Marlene said once Lily had finished recounting her night with James in vivid detail. “Okay. So, this guy’s a major dick if he’s avoiding you after all that.”

“Agreed,” Lily said. They clinked glasses, giggled a bit drunkenly, and each took a sip.

“However.” Marlene paused, whether for dramatic effect or to gather her thoughts, Lily didn’t know. “It is also possible that you are overreacting and that it is in large part due to the assumption Dorky, Mellie, and I made upstairs.”

“Ugh, Leney!” Lily whined.

“No, listen,” Marlene insisted. “You’ve admitted yourself that you hardly know anything about him. You don’t know what he does for a living; maybe he had to travel for work. Maybe he went home to visit his family. You didn’t exchange phone numbers, so he can’t get in touch to update you or reassure you if he even wants to and you can’t reach him to let him know that you would benefit from a bit of reassuring.”

“So, basically, all I can do is wait until he shows back up and see whether he’s an asshole or I’m overreacting,” Lily surmised miserably.

“Pretty much.” Marlene laughed and sipped her wine. “Hey, chin up, Buttercup. Bright side is, either way, you can still fuck him again.”

Lily frowned and drummed her fingers on the table. “How do you figure?”

“Well, if you’re overreacting, chances are he’s as interested in getting to know you as you are in getting to know him,” Marlene pointed out. “And if he’s an asshole, well then he’ll definitely be up for more steamy sex, no-strings-attached.”

Lily cocked her head, unable to stop herself from glancing out the window at James’s house again. Marlene had a point. The only thing was, Lily couldn’t decide which would be the worst-case scenario: never having sex with him again, or having sex with him knowing that it meant nothing to him. Probably, if she were honest with herself, never having sex with him again.

Before she could praise Marlene for her genius, Emmeline shouted down the stairs for them.

“Oi! What are you two doing? Did you fall down the stairs and die? Is there a murderer in the house? Did you just ditch us? Have you started snogging without us? … Oh, like you wouldn’t snog any one of us, Dorky. … Oh, shut _up_ , we’re not _actually_ sisters, it would be _fine_.”

Lily and Marlene looked at one another, and dissolved into a fit of giggles.

“We’d better go before Dorky disconnects on her,” Marlene said once she had gotten the giggles mostly under control.  

It wouldn’t be the first time that Emmeline had pushed Dorcas too far. Emmeline had the wildest personality of the four of them and she had the inappropriate mouth to match. Dorcas, who had been brought up far more prim and proper, often disagreed with the things that Emmeline said. They rowed often; it was part of the reason that Emmeline didn’t join them on every Skype night.

“We’re coming!” Lily shouted up the stairs.

“Oh, good! Bring the whisky when you do!” Emmeline shouted back.

“I’m bringing the wine, too,” Lily said, grabbing her glass and the bottle of wine and leaving Marlene to bring the whisky for Emmeline.

A couple hours later, after Lily and Marlene had updated Emmeline and Dorcas on the subject – though in much less detail – and the four women had long since exhausted the topic, they disconnected from Dorcas, who seemed suspiciously sober and had to go meet some friends out for drinks. Lily, Emmeline, and Marlene each had one last drink, and then Lily walked Marlene and Emmeline out to their shared Uber. They were laughing and Emmeline was stumbling and Marlene and Lily were struggling, but managed to hold her upright all the same. They didn’t usually drink so much on their Skype nights owing to the fact that they were always on Thursdays and they all had work on Friday mornings, but Lily had wanted to numb her mind and Emmeline was never one to be out-drunk and Marlene didn’t like to be the only sober one in a group and Dorcas, even in a different country, was a fucking enabler.

They managed to get her to the car at the curb and had just got the door open, still giggling like the schoolgirls they had once been together, when a set of headlights washed over them. A familiar car pulled into James’s drive. Emmeline was hanging onto Lily’s neck and stroking her hair as if she were a particularly oversized cat when James stepped out of his car. Lily froze, heart hammering, when they made eye contact. James lifted a hand in greeting, and grinned when Emmeline began peppering drunk, friendly kisses all over Lily’s face.

“Oh, my God! Is that him!” Emmeline said loudly, sensing that Lily’s attention had been diverted. Lily got the distinct impression from the proximity of Emmeline’s mouth to Lily’s ear that Emmeline thought she was whispering. “He’s fit as hell.”

“Oh, God,” Marlene muttered, setting a hand on Emmeline’s shoulder to try and lead her away from Lily and into the car all while trying to subtly get a look at James over her shoulder. “Come on, Mellie.”

The passenger door opened then and another man stepped out, impossibly handsome and lean and slightly sorter than James. Lily recognized him immediately as his smoker best friend who had spent a few weeks with James after his motorcycle accident. A third man, shorter again, and thinner, and with lighter hair than both James and the second man, stepped out from the backseat – stumbled out, really – and the handsome smoker steadied him. Lily wondered if the third man was as drunk as Emmeline, but had the impression from his haggard look that his stumble was something else entirely.

“Or was it one of them?” Emmeline shouted. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter! They’re all fit from here.”

All three men laughed at that, one sounding more like a quick, mirthful bark, another sounding rough and tired, and the last one, familiar and free, belonged to James and made Lily feel warm inside.

“Hello, ladies,” called the very fit smoker, perfectly at ease.

Lily waved awkwardly and turned to her friends, her face hot and probably very red, to try to help Marlene coax Emmeline into the car. “The car’s going to leave without you if you don’t get in, Emmeline.”

“Which one of you lives here?” Emmeline called out.

Without hesitation, both of James’s friends pointed to him at the same time as he lifted a hand.

“Mellie, let’s get in the car,” Marlene said gently as Lily tried to push the blond into the backseat.

“Was it a one-night stand or what?” Emmeline asked far too loudly, in keeping with the rest of this awful moment.

Marlene’s head whipped around to stare, wide-eyed, at Lily who was feeling both humiliated and murderous. She clenched her jaw and met Marlene’s gaze. “Get her in the fucking car.”

Giving up on gentle, they shoved a laughing, vaguely protesting Emmeline into the car. Marlene held a hand over Emmeline’s head so that she didn’t hit the doorframe or the ceiling of the car and Lily tried to force Emmeline’s long, toned legs into the car after her. Marlene turned to Lily once Emmeline was inside the car and talking loudly at their exasperated driver. Her eyes went even wider, taking in _someone_ over Lily’s shoulder.

“It was nice to sort of meet you,” Marlene said and turned to Lily with a small, suggestive smile that quickly dissolved into giggles. She kissed Lily on the cheek and then quickly climbed in after Emmeline and shut the door. Lily could hear her bickering with Emmeline, who actually turned around to stare out the back window of the car as it drove off.

Lily turned slowly and was not surprised to find James standing there, mere inches from her. For a moment, they only looked at one another. Then, Lily laughed awkwardly. “I swear we don’t normally behave like ridiculous schoolgirls.”

James smiled, rubbed the back of his neck, and then ruffled his hair. Lily followed the movement of his hand intently, wishing that it was her hand mussing his hair again. “It’s all right. When my mates and I drink, we can sometimes get a bit rowdy and act like the idiot teenagers we once were.”

She looked over towards his house, found that his friends were no longer standing near his car, surmised that they must have gone inside to give him some privacy with her. She looked back up at him, tried to think of something to say that wasn’t _I missed you even though I know I had no right to_ or _You make me feel like a schoolgirl, honestly_.

“I was away for a few days,” James said quite suddenly, freeing her from the pressure of thinking of what to say. He gestured over his shoulder in the direction of his house. “Our friend Remus fell ill and was in hospital, so Sirius and I took a last minute trip over to York to stay with him and convince him to come back to London with us.”

“Why was he in York?” Lily asked.

“Oh, his parents moved there when we were in uni here,” James said, waving a dismissive hand. “He went to visit them when they fell ill, stayed and cared for them through to the end, and just never made it back home.”

“Is he okay now?” She felt very sorry for this man she had never even met. She could only imagine how it would feel to go home for a visit and stay to watch your parents die, only to fall ill after they had passed. At least he was fortunate enough to have such good friends to look after him.

“He’s fine,” James assured her. “Anyway, Lily. My point is… I didn’t mean to disappear on you.”

“Oh. No. That’s okay,” Lily said. “I didn’t think… Emmeline’s just very drunk and… I didn’t…”

“I came over to talk to you before I left, but you weren’t home. At least, I don’t think you were. Your car was in the drive, but you didn’t answer the door,” James told her. “It was Sunday morning.”

“I wasn’t here,” Lily said, remembering. “I was at brunch with my friend Benjy.”

She had spent most of the morning regaling Benjy with tales of her exploits with James. As a very busy, very single gay man, Benjy had appreciated the detail she had gone into. The only reason she had told him that she had had sex four times in twelve hours and had experienced no less than seven full-fledged orgasms was that it had all been so new and exciting at the time, so fresh in her mind, and because she trusted Benjy to not be a twat and shout out what she had told him on her street in the middle of the night or in James’s presence.

“I left a note for you, on your door. It had my number on,” James said.

“I didn’t get it,” Lily told him. “Oh, my God. I swear I didn’t get it.”

“It wasn’t a one-night stand,” James said softly, taking her hand in his. “Not for me.”

“Me neither,” Lily whispered.

He smiled brilliantly at her, slipped his hand out of hers to slide it up her arm, fingers trailing so gently along her skin that she trembled. His other hand rested on her waist.

It was Lily who surged forward, rising to the very tips of her toes as she threw her arms around his neck and drew him down to kiss her. She sighed when their lips met, and let her hands wander up into his hair.

He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, his tongue working its way smoothly into her mouth to tangle with hers. He pulled her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbled at her, rolled his tongue over her lip, and then released her with a small, gentle peck.

“Is it ridiculous if I say that I missed you while I was away?” he breathed, his forehead resting against hers.

“Probably,” Lily said with a small smile, her hands still stroking through his hair. She laughed quietly when he frowned and pressed his mouth to hers again. “But it’s okay because I missed you too.”

He grinned at her and it lit his whole face up in a way that made her want to squeal with joy and grab his face and never stop kissing him.

“Will you go on a date with me?” he asked, rushing through the words as if he didn’t want to miss his chance. “We can get dinner, or we can see a film, or we can go have drinks and dance and sing out-of-tune karaoke if that’s what you’re into.”

“I will go on a date with you,” Lily said, laughing at the goofy, elated look on his face. “But only if you fuck me after.”

James gaped at her for a moment, then forcibly shut his mouth and nodded. “I can… I can do that.”

“I know you can,” Lily said with a sly smirk. “In fact, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about _just how well_ you can.”

“Damn it. I can… we can… right now… do you want… I…” James stammered, gripping her hips tightly with both hands and eyeing her house.

“I really do want,” Lily said, sliding her hands down out of his hair to stroke along his firm chest. “But your friends…”

“Fuck ‘em.”

“I’d rather fuck _you_ ,” she said.

“Well, yeah. That’s what I meant. _Forget_ them and fuck _me_.” He used his grip on her hips to pull her close so that they were flush against each other and she felt the evidence of how badly he wanted her pressing into her stomach. She buried her smile in his shoulder as he brought his mouth closer to her ear. “Now? Or later? Once we have a proper date? I can wait.”

“We’ve already waited five whole days. You want me to wait longer?” Lily said, only half-joking.

James grinned down at her and kissed her again. Lily had just tilted her head to deepen the kiss, her mouth opening for him, when she heard a loud, ear-splitting whistle. James pulled back and groaned and then there was applause. Lily frowned and looked around, spotting the culprits standing behind the low fence surrounding James’s back garden.

The one she assumed he had referred to as Sirius had both of his forearms propped up on the top of the fence, his hands dangling over the edge in a show of pseudo-polite applause while a lit cigarette dangled from one corner of his smirking mouth. The other one, the one who had been ill, Remus, was leaning against the side of the house next to him, laughing quietly and also applauding.

“Ignore them,” James said, rolling his eyes and raising his voice so that they could easily hear him. “They’re idiots and I hate them.”

“Well, that was rude,” Remus said.

“He’s only upset because we’re cockblocking,” Sirius told Remus in what was the most put-on innocent tone Lily had ever heard.

“I suppose it must not have been a one-night stand, then,” Remus said to Sirius, who shrugged.

“He’d be a bleeding idiot if it was,” Sirius said finally after making a show of looking Lily up and down.

James groaned and Lily laughed. He eyed her questioningly for a moment before sighing and leading her closer to his friends.

“Would you leave us alone?” James asked, voice strained.

“No. I’m afraid you’re really best not left to your own devices,” Remus said.

“What about leaving him to mine?” Lily postulated, smirking.

Sirius hummed thoughtfully, and reached up to pull the cigarette from his mouth after he took a long drag. He stared at Lily for a moment before stubbing his cigarette out on the top of James’s fence. Then, he smiled devilishly at her and Lily knew that, were she not infatuated with his best friend already, she would have been nearly undone by the sight.

“Yeah, I think that might be acceptable,” Sirius said.

“Just don’t hurt him; he’s very fragile,” Remus added with a solemn nod.

“Hmm, that’s not the impression I got on Friday night,” Lily said, pretending to study a scowling James thoughtfully. “Or Saturday morning.”

“This is the worst possible combination of personalities,” James complained, grabbing Lily by the hand and pulling her away. “Later, boys!”

“Be safe!” Remus called.

“If you impregnate her, you’ve got to marry her,” Sirius said mildly. “It’s what Mum always said when we were younger, remember?”

“Bloody hell, Sirius, _shut_ _up_ ,” James whisper-shouted, wheeling around to glare at him, but Sirius and Remus were both already walking back around the side of his house to the back door, chuckling. He was red when he turned back to Lily, apologies clearly on the tip of his tongue, but she laughed and kissed him.

“It’s okay. Remember my friend not half an hour ago?” Lily said with a soft smile when he lowered his forehead to her shoulder.

“Yeah, but that was funny. She was drunk. My friends are sober; they’re just wankers,” James complained.

But he loved them, she knew, so he clearly didn’t think they were all that bad. Because he had only recently nursed a broken and bloody Sirius back to health and he had taken off work and driven five hours to sit in a hospital for days while Remus recovered from his illness and now they were both staying in his house. And he was here, standing on her front porch with her, about to ditch his mates for her.

“Maybe we should wait,” Lily said suddenly.

James, who had just started kissing her neck, pulled back to study her face.

“I’m going to kill them,” he said after a moment.

“No, not because of them,” she said, resting her palms flat against his firm chest. “It’s just I’ve got to be at the office tomorrow morning and I’ve had a bit much wine – not too much to be responsible for my own decisions, mind, just enough to need a bit more sleep than I otherwise might – and last time, well, we didn’t sleep much.”

“We really didn’t.” James grinned and leaned in to place a lingering kiss on her lips.

“Are you upset?” Lily whispered.

“Nah.” James shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“Because, honestly, I’m a bit upset,” Lily said on a sigh as she pressed her face to his shoulder. “Fucking responsibility.”

“I’ll reward you handsomely tomorrow night. Promise,” James said, and Lily didn’t know him well yet, but she knew he was grinning, and also that he would keep his word.

“I should probably get your number, though.” He was already reaching into his trouser pocket as he spoke. “In case I need to contact you before then.”

He unlocked the screen and handed it to her. She wasted no time in creating a new contact with her information and handed it back to him. He smiled, thanked her, and slid his phone back into his pocket.

She lifted her face to kiss him, her hands burying themselves one last time in his hair, stroking through the silky, messy strands as he massaged her bottom lip between his. A breathy, high-pitched sound escaped her throat when he backed her up into her door, his hips pressed firmly against hers.  

“Dinner or dancing?” James asked, tearing his mouth from hers with no small amount of effort, it seemed to her.

“As long as you fuck me after, I don’t really care what we do,” Lily said.

James groaned and rocked his hips against hers a few times. Lily moaned, hitched a leg over his hip, and he slid his hand down her waist to grip the back of her thigh just under her ass.

“I’ll pick you up at half-seven,” James panted, releasing her leg. She let it fall from his hip and James backed away from her hastily, looking for all the world like it was the last thing he had any interest in doing. He was walking backwards down her front steps, not even stumbling once, the fucker, by the time she managed to push herself off of the front door. “You should get inside, get some rest.”

With any luck, she would need her rest for tomorrow night. She bit her lip, saw his gaze trained on her mouth, and smiled as she reached for the doorknob behind her. “Goodnight.”

She managed to make herself walk inside and shut the door, but she leaned against the door for several long moments, unable to calm her heart or make her legs steady enough to carry her up the stairs. When she finally pushed herself off the door to make her ungainly way to the staircase it was only because she heard her phone chime from her bedroom. It could have been one of her friends, Marlene most likely, checking in on her to make sure James hadn’t been an asshole about everything, but the timing was too perfect for it to be anyone but him.

When she finally made it to her bedroom, she found her phone on the dresser next to her door where she had left it when Dorcas had called to say she was logging onto Skype. Sure enough, she had a text from an unknown number. Heart racing in her chest, she held her thumb over the home button to unlock it and brought up her text messages.

Unknown _: I can’t wait for tomorrow night._

She smiled, pausing only to add his number in her phone as a new contact before she answered. Before she managed to come up with an appropriately sweet and sultry response, though, another message popped up.

JP: _I’m going to make you scream._

Her mouth dropped open and she felt a fresh, sharp throb of desire deep within her. Her fingers moved furiously over the touch screen.

LE _: ohmygod COME BACK HERE NOW!_

His response was immediate, came in two separate bubbles, and was not what she wanted.

JP: _;)_

JP: _Sleep well, lovely._

As if that were even slightly possible now. Frustrated, and more excited than she had ever been for a date, she tossed her phone onto her bed and began to undress, tossing her undergarments near the foot of her bed before she collapsed on top of the mattress.

She’d have to fucking touch herself tonight, which was her own damn fault, she knew. She’d get off, and it would be fine, but it wouldn’t be anywhere near as satisfying as she knew James would be.

An idea occurred to her then, and, smirking, she picked up her phone.

LE: _Don’t be alarmed if you hear me scream tonight._

He didn’t respond immediately, but she watched as three little dots popped up in the bottom left of the chat, then disappeared, reappeared, and disappeared again. She smiled, realized that he wasn’t sure how to respond, and snapped a picture of her bra and knickers pooled at her feet.

Biting her lip, she sent it to him. This time, his response was instant.

JP: _Fucking hell._

JP: _You’re going to kill me._

JP: _Warn me if you’re going to send another picture._

JP: _The boys have forced me to sit and have a drink with them and they will definitely notice if I come in my pants._

JP: _Not that I ever would._

JP: _I don’t do that._

JP: _That would be embarrassing._

JP: _Hypothetically._

JP: _I regret sending all of that._

JP: _It was awful._

She smiled, imagined his reaction to what she was about to do, and slid her right hand down her bare stomach, wishing it were his. She was embarrassingly wet; her fingers were slick with desire the instant she touched herself, coated them, rubbed them over her little bundle of nerves.

With her left hand, she lifted her phone, threw her head back, snapped a picture, and sent it to him.

He didn’t answer her. She was a bit disappointed, but figured he was with his friends and probably didn’t want to give them a reason to take the mickey for ignoring them in favor of texting a woman who he already knew was going to let him fuck her again.

There was a thud at her front door as if someone had fallen against it, then a frantic pounding.

Grinning, heart racing, she jumped from her bed, ran into the hallway, and raced down the stairs without even bothering to grab her dressing gown. She didn’t even check to see who was there before she opened the door, stark naked. She just _knew._

He was on her immediately, his arms wrapping tight around her waist, his mouth hot and hard on hers, his body forcing her backwards into her living room as he kicked the door shut behind him.

“Your friends are going to give you such shit,” she laughed breathlessly as he wrenched his mouth away from her to push her down on her couch.

“I don’t fucking care,” he growled, dropping to his knees on the ground in front of her. “Spread your legs.”

A shock of wild desire coursed through her at the sound of him, so rough and demanding of her, and she did as he asked. He gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her flesh surely hard enough to bruise, and pulled her to the edge of the cushion. He looked up at her, into her eyes, for just a moment, judging, she thought, whether or not she was comfortable with this. He must have seen the eager compliance in her face, must have been really turned on by the look in her eyes, because he dipped his head and his mouth was hard on her, his tongue running slow and completely up the length of her slit.

He groaned against her, the sound deep and guttural in his throat, and licked her again. “So fucking good.”

She threw her head back against the back of the couch, one hand fisting in James’s hair, the other cupping her breast, and moaned when he pressed his tongue flat against her clit, massaging for a moment before he wrapped his lips around her and sucked, releasing her for a moment before flattening his tongue over her again and then sucking her into his mouth. He did this over and over again, and Lily was already breathless and moaning and half out of her mind with need by the time he slid his fingers inside her, curling and coaxing, his other hand reaching up to massage the breast she wasn’t already groping, his fingers alternating between pinching her nipple and kneading at her flesh.

It was embarrassingly fast –maybe three minutes from the time he slammed into her front door– before her thighs were trembling, tightening around his head, and he had to let go of her breast to hold onto one of her legs and keep her from smothering him. His lips clamped down on her, applying a constant, intense pressure on her clit as his fingers moved faster inside of her.

The breath sobbed out of her, both of her hands pulled at his hair in a way that had to have been painful. The contractions started, and he never let up on her as wave after wave of electric energy washed over her.

When it was over and she could see straight again, and the pressure from his mouth was starting to get painful, he stopped as if he _knew_ that she couldn’t take any more. He slid his fingers out of her, looked her in the eye, and licked them clean. It should have been disgusting, but it wasn’t; it was arousing as hell. She slid her hands from his hair, gripped him by the shoulders and tugged.

She wasn’t strong enough, nor her grip effective enough, to physically pull him up to her, but he knew what she wanted and complied. He moved smoothly, slowly up her body, alternating between open-mouthed kisses and licking his way up her stomach and chest. When he got to her neck, he paused, gave her a brief little nibble that shot a shock of desire straight to her core, but wasn’t long or forceful enough to leave a tasteless mark.

He brought his mouth to hers, and his hands to her shoulders to turn her and push her down into the couch cushions, and climbed awkwardly on top of her. They had done this on his couch last time, but he had clearly purchased his couch with his height in mind. Hers was far too short for him to comfortably position himself atop her, but she got the feeling that he would have managed somehow had she not taken pity and gestured toward the kitchen.

“Table,” she said.

Understanding, he stood immediately, and lifted her into his arms. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and he gripped her by the ass and carried her into her kitchen. She took to nibbling on his earlobe and he stopped abruptly, pressed her into the wall, nudged her head to the side, and kissed her hard on the mouth, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. She rolled her hips against his insistent erection and he groaned and turned swiftly, moving quickly through her kitchen.

He set her down on the edge of the sturdy wood table and their tongues slid along each other as she began to fumble with the hem of his black long-sleeved shirt. He lifted his arms immediately and she quickly pulled the material up and over his head, flinging it off to the side where it landed in the clean sink basin. Her hands moved to his tan trousers, unbuckling his belt hastily before moving on to the button and fly.

When she pushed his trousers and briefs down his thighs, he stepped out of them, kicked them to the side. She noticed then that he wasn’t wearing shoes or socks, had left his house barefoot, ditched his mates, sprinted across both of their gardens and into her house. She was too desperate for him to laugh about it now, but she made a mental note to tease him over it later. There was a wild look in his eye that told her that he was feeling as desperate to be inside her as she was to be filled by him; it sent a shock straight to her core.

Once he had kicked his trousers and briefs into a pile next to him, he moved closer to her, took his place between her legs again, and kissed her. He had meant to slide right into her, she thought, start fucking her immediately, but she wrapped her hand around him and slid from leaking tip to base. His jaw went slack, his head dropped to her shoulder, and he breathed hot obscenities against her neck.

Very suddenly, he nudged her hand aside and dropped to the ground in front of her. For one wild, bewildered, excited moment, she thought he was going to go down on her again. Instead, he started rummaging through his trousers, eventually coming up with his wallet.

“Do you have a… fuck, I don’t have a condom,” James said, fumbling with his wallet.

“It’s okay; I’m on the pill,” she told him.

He looked at her, the wild look in his eyes still strong, but a bit more cautious. “Are you sure?” he asked slowly.

She laughed, gripped his hair tightly, and pulled his face down to hers. “James, I don’t fancy having a baby any time soon, either. We’re good.”

He dipped his head and kissed her, long and probing and arousing and she heard a thud as he dropped his wallet carelessly to the floor. He only pulled back long enough to look her in the eye as he pushed into her in one slow, deep thrust that brought their hips flush together.

“ _Oh_ , my God,” she moaned as he filled her more completely than anyone before him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice soft and tender. Then he started moving, and there was nothing gentle about him for several long, sweaty, wonderful moments.

Until she screamed. Honest to God screamed when she came. A real, genuine, honest-to-God back arching, toes curling, head rearing, fingers digging into his back, screaming orgasm. She’d been vocal during sex with past lovers, had muttered the empty, ego-stroking _more, yes, harder, so good_ , had moaned when she hadn’t felt the true urge, had faked an orgasm here and there just to get it over with quicker.

This was none of that. When she came down, she was trembling, and he was staring at her, eyes dark and intense and beautiful, and he was still moving inside of her, but not as rough as before.

“So beautiful,” he said again, and kissed her, one of his hands trailing down her stomach and coming to rest on her hip, the other laid flat on the surface of the table to support his weight.

His hips never stopped moving, but instead of the almost painfully frantic thrusting from before, this was more rhythmic, a slow stroke, his cock almost massaging her. After a few moments during which the only sound was their ragged breathing, James slid his hand from her hip to circle his thumb over her clit.

It was slower, more gradual this time, equally as pleasurable, but softer, gentler. Instead of a scream, this time it was a low, long moan as his thumb circled her and his cock stroked her from within.

Not long after, his thrusts lost some of his previous rhythm. He was a bit jerkier, a bit rougher, his thrusts a bit sharper and deeper. He dropped his forehead to the table next to her head, his face turned towards her, his short, quick breath bursting hot against her neck. When he groaned, one loud, low, almost-tortured sound in her ear, he stilled, his hips flush against hers, and she felt him pulsing inside of her, trembling around her.

She’d never thought the male orgasm could be beautiful, but she had also never let a bloke come inside her without a condom, much less persuaded him to. He lifted his head and looked her in the eyes, and the expression on his face was so tender that it seemed almost impossible that they could have only known each other for less than a week; it felt like they’d been doing this their entire lives. She stroked a hand through his hair and he kissed her.

“Should I go so you can get some sleep?” James asked sweetly, his forehead touching hers. Her heart was still racing from her last orgasm, and he was still inside her.

She shook her head. “Only if you want to.”

“I really don’t,” he whispered, and kissed her slowly.

He pulled back, slid out of her, and stood up. She studied him, standing there naked in her kitchen, all lean muscles and long limbs and messy hair and crooked glasses and looking for all the world as if he belonged there, and wondered happily how the hell her life had come to this point.

“You want a towel or something?” he asked.

She closed her eyes sleepily and lifted a limp hand to gesture over to the sink. “Second drawer,” she told him.

The drawer slid open and closed a second later, and she heard water running, and a moment later, he pressed a warm, damp washcloth into her hand. When she opened her eyes and sat up to wipe herself clean, he was wearing the shirt she vaguely remembered throwing into the sink. He crouched down to grab his briefs, pulled them on, searched the floor for his wallet, and shoved it back into his trouser pocket so that he didn’t have to search for it in the morning, she assumed.

He looked up from folding his trousers neatly when she threw the soiled washcloth, which landed in the basket of clothes to be washed on top of her washing machine.

“How’s the dryer?” he asked.

“Still a traitorous piece of shit,” she told him.

“Well, now you’ve got my number, you can come over and use mine whenever you want,” he offered.

“So kind, sir,” she murmured, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him closer.

He read her intentions and ducked his head to make it easier for her to kiss him, really more of a lazy rubbing together of their lips at first. Then she flicked her tongue out, licked his bottom lip, tilted her head, and kissed him in earnest. When her fingers slipped under the bottom of his shirt, he sighed contentedly.

“You are actively trying to kill me, aren’t you?” James mumbled against her lips.

“No.” Lily pulled back to smirk up at him. “The sex is too good.”

“Potentially my only saving grace,” James said with a self-satisfied smile.

“You’re also an excellent cook,” Lily assured him.

“Ah, yes, the Aubergine _Parmigiana_.”

“And you have lovely hands,” Lily said, wrapping one of his hands in hers and lifting it to her face.

“My hands? Really?” He laughed, bemused, when she pressed her lips to the back of his hand.

“And you’re insanely fit,” Lily told him.

“You’re very good for my ego, you know.” James lifted his free hand to the back of her head, shifted the one she was still clutching to caress her cheek before he kissed her softly.

“Does your ego need a little stroking?” she asked. “There are plenty of things I like about you so far.”

“Well, it’s a bit too soon for any other kind of stroking, so go on,” James said with a cheeky grin.

Lily laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. When he slid his arms around her waist, the warmth of the embrace reminded her that she was incredibly naked and alone in her nudity.  She shivered.

“Let’s get you to bed,” James suggested.

When he would have lifted her off the table, carried her up the stairs, she jumped down herself and evaded his grasp.

“I can walk, thank you very much,” she said primly, and sashayed her way to the stairs, acutely aware of his presence right behind her, his gaze hot on her.

She turned at the top of the stairs, caught him staring at her ass, and laughed. “You perv.”

“You wanted me to look,” he said confidently.

He was right, so she said nothing. She took his hand and led him to her bedroom, where her shirt and jeans were still pooled on the floor and her knickers and bra lying at the foot of her bed from her earlier solo exploits. She swept the undergarments to rest on the floor and then collapsed onto her bed.

“You should take your shirt off,” Lily told him, because she wanted as lovely a sight as she could fall asleep to, and wake up to.

James raised an eyebrow at her, but did as she asked. He didn’t drop his shirt on the floor, but folded it and set it atop her dresser. She wondered if this was going to be the _something_ that turned him off of her. She wasn’t messy by any means, but she had a tendency to leave the small things – clothes, for instance – to tidy up later. She remembered how neat his house had been when she’d been there, noticed that he hadn’t left anything of his lying around here to pick up in the morning. He’d even made sure to wash the dishes when she’d been over at his house before giving in to the urge to fuck her.

He didn’t seem to mind at the moment, however, as he slid into the bed next to her in nothing but his briefs, turned to face her, slid his arm around her waist to pull her closer, so she chose not to worry over it. She placed her hand on his wrist, slid it slowly, smoothly up his arm to the back of his neck, where she played with the choppy ends of his messy black hair. He smiled and reached for the covers, pulled them up to cover them.

“It’s getting late,” he said.

He was right; the clock next to her bed said it was almost midnight. She had to be up at seven now that she definitely needed to take a shower before work, earlier even if they were going to shower together, which they probably would.

“What time do you have to be up?” she asked him.

“No time in particular.” He shrugged, then smiled when she quirked a brow at him. She knew his schedule, figured that he probably knew hers since they were so similar, and assumed that he would have to wake up around the same time as her for work. “I took off tomorrow. Didn’t know if I’d be back yet.”

She nodded her understanding, felt her eyelids drooping, her limbs growing heavier. She could fall asleep easily, but she wanted to keep talking, needed to get to know him. “What do you do?”

He shushed her gently, smoothed her hair back from her face. “We’ll get to know each other tomorrow,” he whispered. “But now, sleep.”

She was asleep before she knew it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was requested some time ago that I post a sequel to It's Just Something That I Want To Do and here it finally is. It (unexpectedly, honestly) ended up quite sexually explicit towards the end, though, so I had to change the rating. Hope you enjoy.


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